


Like Sugar

by jellygrass



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assassin Bucky Barnes, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Steve Rogers, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:37:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellygrass/pseuds/jellygrass
Summary: “Wait!” Steve repeats, calling out to the empty hallway when he finally gathers his wits and pushes himself up to his feet. “Where are you going?” His heart is thumping rapidly in his chest, and he feels even more at a loss than he did when he woke up from the ice alone and utterly confused. He doesn’t know why it feels like a part of him is missing— he doesn’t even know the man’s name; the mankilledsomeone, but he holds his breath all the same andwants. There’s no reply, however, only silence and the lights dotting the hallway that seem to stretch on forever.





	Like Sugar

Steve’s neighbour from the apartment below his is the first and only person to hear his incessant pacing within the walls of his own, given the knocks that resound on the door a while after he’s started moving around the place restlessly. He’s currently standing against the open door to a middle-aged brunette woman smiling at him cautiously.

 

“Everything okay?” She asks kindly, after her introduction. Her eyes are drawn to his hip, and Steve follows her gaze to find that she’s not looking at his hip but rather his hand, drawn against his side. It doesn’t take much to figure out why; his fingers are twitching unconsciously.

 

“Um,” Steve says eloquently, a little bemused at the way his body is behaving today, clasping his hands together and forcing himself to stop fidgeting. “Yes, I think.” His voice trails a little at the end, because he doesn’t know what exactly’s wrong _but_ he doesn’t want to bother his neighbour, who he’s never met until a few minutes ago. He can always make a trip to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters if things get worse. It’s not far away, the reason why he’s been given this apartment to stay. It’s only been a few weeks since he’s been taken out from the ice but Steve’s trying hard to adjust to this new world. Half of the time it still feels like he’s dreaming.

 

His neighbour’s expression softens into one that appears understanding, smile still in place. “You might be going into heat, love.”

 

It takes a few seconds for Steve to process what she’s saying, and she taps her nose upon seeing his frown.

 

“Can smell you this close up,” she says. “I’m a beta, don’t worry.” And really, Steve wouldn’t have worried, anyway; he’s _Captain America_. Even if he wasn’t, he’s pretty sure he’ll still be able to defend himself against someone like his five foot five neighbour. That aside, somehow, he’s managed to forget the fact that he’s been an omega basically all his life. It’s incredible. It’s also probably because of the stress.

 

“Right,” Steve says slowly, unsure of what to reply with. His neighbour probably thinks he’s an idiot. “Thank you. I’ve been pretty occupied, is all.” Except he hasn’t really been busy doing anything, just frozen solid in a block of ice for around seventy years, he reminds himself helpfully. He’s experienced heat symptoms before, but his body was never strong enough to sustain one and he was put on suppressants the whole time after the serum, so he’s unsure of what to expect. Thankfully, there’s something called the Internet in this century; Google’s quickly becoming his new favourite thing.

 

His neighbour must have seen something in his expression because she reaches up to pat his shoulder comfortingly. “You’ll be fine,” she says.

 

Steve sure as hell hopes so.

 

* * *

It’s the fourth day and he’s doing his best to ride out his heat when the call comes in during the evening when he’s in the middle of fucking himself with a dildo. It startles him so much that he scrambles around in confusion and his dick flops all over his stomach before he manages to calm himself down and locate the source of the ringing. His phone is placed on his bedside drawer, and he eases the silicone dildo out of his ass with a wet sound (grimacing at the feeling of slick escaping) and wipes his hand on his bedsheets before picking up the phone. “S.H.I.E.L.D. is calling” is displayed on the screen, and he quickly swipes to accept the call. 

 

“Hello?” Steve says, trying to hide the annoyance in his tone. His voice doesn’t crack despite its disuse, something that he’s extremely thankful for.

 

“Captain,” Nick Fury’s unmistakable voice greets him. Steve can’t help but swear under his breath. “I hope I didn’t disturb you, because we need you now.”

 

Steve looks down at his dick that still stands at full mast. “Okay,” he says, because he’s never been one to back down from a request, even in a predicament. Besides, it’s already been a few days since his heat started; it’s definitely much more manageable now. He’ll douse himself in as much deodorant as possible, finish the mission, and be back in no time, he reasons with himself. Then, he can resume what he’s been doing. “What are the details?”

 

* * *

 

 

He gets to the function room in record time, a grand hall with decorations that look like they cost a fortune, geared up in his attire. His shield isn’t with him— there wasn’t any time to retrieve it from S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, but given the type of mission this is (picking up leftovers), he’s sure he’ll manage fine without it.

 

The first thing Steve notices is that the room is in absolute chaos. People in expensive suits and fancy dresses are running towards the exits in hysterics, and the startling contrast of the screaming and disarray of bodies crashing into each other to the quiet of his apartment has Steve wincing. He pushes past the people rushing out of the event room, trying to spot anything suspicious. An assassination attempt, Fury had debriefed him prior to his arrival, _secure the target before following the spy_.

 

Steve secures the target all too soon— dead and everything. It’s hard not to when he’s the only one collapsed in a chair in the midst of moving bodies, red painted across his throat. Steve curses— _he was too late_ — looking around desperately to try pinpoint where the attacker could have disappeared to. He zeroes in on a smashed window to the right of the room immediately and manoeuvres his way to run and jump through it, careful to avoid the jagged ends where the glass has shattered. He lands on his feet in a lit corridor, which he rushes along until the path splits.

 

There’s a movement to his right before he decides which turn he should make that he barely catches out of the corner of his eye, and he follows it, making another sharp turn. He spots a figure in the distance and even from afar, can make out the sheer muscle mass of the individual. He tries to remain as silent as possible as he pursues the attacker, but it’s hard to, given the sound his footfalls make against the marble of the floor; Steve’s mid-leap towards the dark-haired man when the latter turns around abruptly.

 

They crash into the floor in a tangle of limbs, the man’s elbow digging into the soft spot of his ribs. Steve ends up on his back as he takes a moment to recover from hitting his head against the ground, and he struggles to hook his legs around the attacker to prevent him from escaping, but he doesn’t think his strategy through enough because the attacker doesn’t attempt to run away, only pins Steve’s hands to the ground. He has a glove on his left hand, Steve notes, the sleeve of the man’s black uniform tucked into it. This close, Steve can’t see discern much of the man’s face due to the mask he’s wearing, only his eyes, a shade of gunmetal blue.

 

“Who are you?” Steve demands, but the man doesn’t give an answer. Steve forces himself to relax momentarily, feigning weakness, and when he feels the man’s grip readjust, he throws his head back and headbutts the other with as much force as possible, causing the attacker to jerk back in surprise or pain, Steve can’t tell. While he’s briefly distracted, Steve hooks his hand around the mask obscuring the brunette’s face and _pulls_. It comes off with surprising ease.

 

It really isn’t the time, sue him— but Steve can’t help but stare in shock, because the man is a lot more attractive than he expected, and it fucks with Steve more than it should have. His cheekbones look like they’ve been carved onto his face, and his lips are wide and a soft red. A five o’clock shadow frames his jaw, giving him a rugged but nonetheless devastatingly attractive appearance. It’s probably a side effect of his heat, or something— Steve can’t help but pick out and glance over every single feature of the man in front of him. Distracted, he notices a fraction too late when the attacker grips his neck, shoving forward to slam him into the wall. The hand on his neck feels unnaturally hard even through the glove the man has on, and Steve struggles and squirms to free himself as his grip tightens. He kicks out desperately, but it seems to have no effect on the attacker. Someone like him definitely isn’t human, is the only thought that comes to Steve’s mind— can’t be, if his strength matches Steve’s. He wracks his brain for a solution to the situation but can't seem to come up with anything. With the man’s hand crushing his windpipe, he struggles to take a breath, and as he inhales through his nose, suddenly all he can smell is the other man— musk and sweat and blood and an underlying scent of cedar. It’s so overpowering that Steve swears he can taste it. It takes two heartbeats for him to realise— the guy’s an _alpha_.

 

It’s then, with his head whirling full of jumbled thoughts, his instincts decide to take over; the realisation that the other is an alpha has Steve going pliant in the attacker’s hold, turning his head to bare his neck in a show of submission. If he remembers correctly, his pheromones should be oozing into the air at this very moment, though he can’t smell his own scent. 

 

It seems to work, because the attacker’s eyes widen and he lets out a strangled breath, nostrils flaring. He looks at Steve, as if seeing Steve for the first time, pupils dilating, eyes burning molten silver. His grip immediately loosens, and Steve is just about to fling himself away when the alpha steps forward and burrows his face into Steve’s neck and _inhales_. The sensation of the man’s lips pressed against his throat, right next to his sensitive scent glands, sends a full body shudder through Steve, and he immediately loses the ability to _think_ , letting out a low whine as his dick stiffens in his pants. On a normal day, that’s probably all that would’ve happened, but Steve’s still in heat, just near the end of the cycle; he feels a spurt of slick from his hole, and he can’t help but grind his dick against the closest thing to him, which just so happens to be the alpha’s thigh.

 

He moans in bliss at the sensation of hard packed muscle against his straining erection, squeezing his legs together to trap the thigh between his and moaning again when he discovers its width. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , is the only thing running through his head. Steve ruts against the coiled sinews of the alpha’s thighs, sending delicious sparks up and down his spine. He lets out a choked gasp when the alpha purposely tenses his leg, lifting it up to meet Steve’s thrusts.

 

“You’re in heat,” the attacker states, throatily. Steve, wholly unprepared for the alpha’s drawl, jerks as another round of slick dribbles down the slip of his thighs. He’s too preoccupied to answer, only continues to pant and grind down against the other, whimpering at the delicious friction. Somewhere in the back of his head, there’s a voice reminding him that what he’s doing is an extremely bad idea, but he really can’t bring himself to care at the moment. “You’re…” The alpha reaches to cup his ass with both hands, growling softly as he feels the wetness of his slick through the fabric of Steve’s uniform.

 

“Please,” Steve says, even though he has no idea what he’s asking for. He’s never been in this situation before, after all, never experienced what an alpha’s presence could do to him during his heat. He whimpers and desperately shoves his throat into the alpha’s face, arching his neck. “Please.”

 

He whines in gratitude when the man complies, lapping at the scent glands that have swollen up on his neck. Each lick lingers on his skin and sends a jolt right to his dick, fueling the heat swirling in his stomach. Steve rocks his hips harder, panting harshly as he chases his release, and with a drawn-out groan, he tips over the edge and comes in his pants, vision whiting out briefly. He can tell the exact moment the alpha notices, because he stiffens in shock and snarls, stepping even closer to Steve so that they’re pressed tightly against each other, chest to chest, not a centimetre between them. The alpha radiates warmth and smells mouthwatering, breath hot and heavy on Steve’s face, whos hands grab feebly at the alpha. Steve feels the man’s erection against his stomach, and he wants to do something, anything, but the alpha grips his chin until he gets Steve’s attention and searches his face with his eyes.

 

“Not now,” the alpha says, “I’ll find you,” and Steve barely registers what he means until the man abruptly lets go of him, pushing him away to dart off.

 

“Wait!” Steve panics, attempting to follow him, but his legs wobble like jelly and he slides down the wall instead, landing in a heap on the ground. All he can do is watch in frustration as the man disappears down the corridor, as if he was never there.

 

“Wait!” Steve repeats, calling out to the empty hallway when he finally gathers his wits and pushes himself up to his feet. “Where are you going?” His heart is thumping rapidly in his chest, and he feels even more at a loss than he did when he woke up from the ice alone and utterly confused. He doesn’t know why it feels like a part of him is missing; he doesn’t even know the man’s name; the man _killed_ someone, but he holds his breath all the same and _wants._ There’s no reply, however, only silence and the lights dotting the hallway that seem to stretch on forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a thing I whipped up during my free time. Let me know if you want a continuation! I’m also still in the middle of editing the fic, so you might notice some changes if you reread it or something. I might change the title as well. Thanks for reading!


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